


Love Me Tender

by novemberhush



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: And Harvey is taking care of him the only way he knows how, But Mike's been hurt a little, But a great big heart of gold underneath it all, Doesn't really qualify as a sickfic or hurt/comfort I guess, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Which is with lots of snark obviously, marvey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:23:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: When Harvey Specter hired Mike Ross he never expected to find himself playing Florence Nightingale to the kid. But when Mike takes a tumble off his bike Harvey discovers that maybe there's something to be said for playing 'Doctors and Nurses', after all...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I originally posted this on tumblr last month under the title 'Kiss It Better', but I never really felt 100% committed to that title. It was under deadline, however, to be in in time for the Marvey Fic Challenge with the prompt, 'All In', and I couldn't think of anything else in time so I went with it. I've since thought of something I like better (hence the change). The song mentioned at the start, by the way, is 'All the Way In Or All the Way Out' by Bettye Swann. I have no idea how to link it here, but you can easily find it on YouTube, etc, if you're interested, and neither it nor the characters herein belong to me. Thanks to Sairyn for the beta and I hope you enjoy! :-)

  
The first thing Mike registered as he stumbled from Harvey’s darkened guest room into the only marginally better lit living room was the soft strains of Bettye Swann (Harvey had taught him about more than just the law) floating from the record player. A song about love and how you’re either all the way in or all the way out. _Ain’t that the truth_ , Mike thought as his eyes adjusted to the dim light and settled on the finely cut figure of one Harvey Reginald Specter, seated on the couch.

  
He was sitting upright, but the chin that had fallen forward on to his chest and gentle snuffles that reached Mike’s ears gave away the fact he had drifted into dreamland. Not that long ago if the almost empty glass of scotch in his hand, balanced precariously in his lap, was anything to go by. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Mike briefly wondered what exactly it was the great Harvey Specter, best closer in New York City, actually dreamed about. Living it up at the Playboy Mansion, with Shatner in tow, probably.

  
Crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, Mike smiled softly to himself and took a minute to gaze fondly at the man who’d done more for him than anyone who didn’t bear the surname ‘Ross’. He fell more into the ‘ _it’s romantic_ ’ than ‘ _it’s creepy_ ’ camp when it came to watching the object of your affection sleep, he decided.

  
When he had drunk his fill, for now anyway, he pushed off the wall and padded quietly over to the sleeping man, not wanting to wake him, but knowing Harvey would be pissed if his hand let slip the glass and spilled his expensive scotch over his even more expensive pants.

  
Of course, the second Mike bent over the slumbering man and attempted to gently remove the glass of tawny liquid from his hand his ribs reminded him of the bruising they had taken earlier that day and the reason he was staying at Harvey’s in the first place. He winced, unable to suppress the groan that escaped his lips and found himself looking into a pair of eyes, warm and golden brown, only inches away from his own, as Harvey awoke with a start at the sound. Only the fact Mike had managed to close his hand round the glass, fingers tangling with Harvey’s as he did so, saved the scotch from sloshing completely over Harvey’s pants. As it was, a few drops had splashed on to their still entwined fingers.

  
Neither of them moved. Time seemed to stand still as Mike felt himself become trapped and frozen in those amber eyes. Well, as frozen as his rapidly increasing body temperature would allow. Neither of them spoke, just kept staring as if each thought the answer to every question they’d ever asked, and some they hadn’t, could be found in the other’s eyes. They also both started breathing a little heavily, Mike noticed. He put that down to the pain from his ribs and his current position ( _Why are you still standing like this, Ross?? Stand up straight, you idiot!_ ) on his part and the surprise and disorientation of being awoken so suddenly on Harvey’s. But deep down he had a feeling there was more to it than that.

  
Bettye finished her song about being all in just then and moved on to the next one, ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’. Mike didn’t know about going blind, but he’d definitely go cross-eyed if he kept looking at Harvey from this close up. That thought finally gave him the impetus to stand up straight, and he did so, managing to bite down on the groan this time, but failing to hide the pained expression that etched itself across his features. He knew Harvey caught it from the shadow that cut across the older lawyer’s own face.

  
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Mike was quick to reassure him. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he added. “I just woke up and came out here and saw you asleep with this.”

  
Mike raised the glass he had slipped from Harvey’s hand as he had stood up. He jiggled it a little from side to side before bringing it to his lips and tossing back the small amount of alcohol remaining in it, earning himself about an eight on the Harvey Specter Glare Scale.

  
“I figured you wouldn’t want to get any of it over your favourite Tom Ford.”

  
Harvey fixed him with a unreadable look and, eyes never leaving Mike’s, slowly brought his own fingers to his mouth, lapping up the few stray drops of scotch that had landed on them. Then he stood up and stepped in close to Mike, those fingers that just seconds ago had been running over his lips once again brushing against Mike’s as he reached out and took the now empty glass from him. Mike willed himself not to shiver. He failed miserably.

  
“Well, thanks for that. And I’m glad to see you’ve finally gained some respect for fine clothing if not fine scotch. But, Mike? What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Harvey demanded, voice low, husky, and eminently capable of turning Mike’s knees to jelly apparently.

  
Not that that was a new development. Mike had been well aware of the physical effect Harvey had on him from the moment they met, and he could deal with that for the most part. It was the emotional effect he was worried about. Crushing on your über-hetero (Mike sometimes suspected that wasn’t quite the case, but knew it could also be wishful thinking on his part) boss was one thing. Falling in love with him was another. Before he could think too long on that, though, he was nearly startled out of his skin by the alarm on Harvey’s phone going off.

  
“Look at that, time for another pill and pop quiz. Congratulations, Evel Knievel. Although maybe I should withhold the pill. The doctor said you were to avoid alcohol while you’re taking them.”

  
Mike rolled his eyes and grinned affectionately.

  
“First of all, _Mom_ , Evel Knievel rode motorcycles. I was knocked off my bicycle. They’re not quite the same thing. Secondly, I think you’d already taken care of most of the alcohol in that glass for me. And, third…” Mike’s voice softened, “… you shouldn’t have to miss out on your sleep because of me. I can set the alarm and wake myself up every couple of hours.”

  
“Yeah,” Harvey snorted, “right up until that concussion you managed to sustain proves more serious than anyone realised and you slip into unconsciousness never to wake up again. Great plan, genius. The doctor released you into my care for a reason. You need someone else waking you every few hours. You can’t rely on being able to do it yourself. And you need someone to ask you questions, talk to you, check for any signs something’s wrong, confusion, slurred speech, memory loss, being even more of an idiot than is normal for you, et cetera, et cetera. Now, stop worrying about my beauty sleep and concentrate on telling me what day of the week it is, when your birthday is and who’s president.”

  
“Aye, aye, captain. And then you can concentrate on telling me how much you don’t care about me again.”

  
“I don’t. I just don’t wanna have to interview another two dozen Harvard douchebags, looking for a new associate, if your skinny ass ups and dies on me. Besides, Donna would kill me if I let anything happen to her puppy.”

  
“She totally would,” Mike laughed. “And my ass isn’t skinny.”

  
“Fine, you’re Kim Kardashian,” Harvey responded, giving his own patented eye roll. “Now, day of the week, birthday and president, smart ass.”

  
“Well, it’s better than skinny,” Mike huffed before rhyming off what day it was, when his birthday was (and Harvey’s too, just for good measure) and who the current occupant of the White House was. When he’d answered all questions to Harvey’s satisfaction they moved to the kitchen where Mike gingerly hauled himself up on to the counter, much to Harvey’s (clearly feigned) displeasure.

Harvey was mostly a closed book to others, but Mike had gotten a peek at the contents page. He’d seen enough to know when Harvey was genuinely pissed and when he was just giving Mike shit for the hell of it. Lecture on the proper etiquette one should observe when a guest in someone else’s home over, Harvey laid out one of Mike’s painkillers and asked him what he wanted to wash it down with.

  
“And what would the patient like to drink? I’ve got water, juice, or I could make you some tea, if you’d prefer something hot to drink.”

  
Memories Mike hadn’t thought of in years floated to the surface and he smiled wistfully before turning to Harvey and speaking almost shyly.

  
“When I was little and I was sick or couldn’t sleep my mom used to…” Mike trailed off, eyes suddenly faraway and shining with tears.

  
“Used to what?” Harvey prompted, voice as quiet as Mike’s had been.

  
Mike shook his head dismissively. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

  
“Sure it does, Mike. Come on, tell me, what did your mom used to do?”

  
“Promise you won’t laugh?”

  
Harvey rolled his eyes again before settling them on Mike’s, soft, warm and full of something that to Mike looked a whole lot like tenderness.

  
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he teased. “Now, out with it. What did your mom used to do?”

  
“She, ah, well, she used to make me hot chocolate with, you know, those little marshmallows on the top. You know the kind I mean?”

  
Mike ducked his head, afraid Harvey would consider his admission childish or a little too much like oversharing. Harvey wasn’t big on the personal stuff. It made him uncomfortable. Mike had been allowed occasional glimpses of the man behind the Gucci armour and glib retorts before, most memorably the night Harvey had opened up to him about his mother and her cheating. But that had been under exceptional circumstances, Harvey trying to offer Mike some much needed comfort and reassurance that he wasn’t alone in the wake of his grandmother’s passing. He had hoped it would be the beginning of a closer, more intimate relationship with the older man, but Harvey had been quick to re-establish the boundaries and emotional distance between them once Mike had started to heal.

  
Still, Mike wanted nothing more than to get close to Harvey and find out who he really was underneath the ridiculously expensive haircut, tailored suits and carefully maintained veneer of cynicism and sarcasm. But he wanted Harvey to open up to him of his own accord. He was afraid if he pushed too hard the shutters would come crashing down, and stay down - permanently.

  
“Sorry, it’s stupid. It’s just something I hadn’t thought about in years that suddenly came back to me and caught me off guard.”

  
“It’s not stupid, Mike. It’s not stupid at all.” Harvey’s voice was so soft Mike almost didn’t recognise it as belonging to his usually hardass boss.

  
Head still bowed, he risked a peek at Harvey from under his eyelashes. His breath caught in his throat at what he saw. More naked emotion than he had ever seen there before was writ large all over Harvey’s face. _God, you’re beautiful_ , Mike thought.

  
“And, yeah, I know the kind you mean. Lily … that is … my mom … she used to do the same for me and Marcus when we were little. You know, before it all went to shit,” Harvey continued.

  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you.”

  
Harvey smiled, a little sadly maybe, but not bitterly.

  
“You didn’t, kid. Those are good memories and I don’t have too many of those where my mother’s concerned.”

  
They fell silent then, both contemplating times past, a sad song about love and loss the only sound in the room. As the song ended and another more hopeful one came on Harvey stirred from reverie as a more recent memory struck him. His hands flew to a cupboard where they unearthed the hot chocolate and half a bag of marshmallows Marcus’ kids had left there the last time they visited.

  
He presented the items to Mike with a triumphant, “Ta-dah!” and a flourish worthy of a professional magician or game show hostess. Mike giggled and said the first thing that came into his head.

  
“Okay, who are you, and what have you done with the real Harvey Specter? You have hot chocolate and marshmallows?? What, you got a secret kid I don’t know about stashed away somewhere or something?”

  
“You’re the only kid in my life, Mike.”

  
The idea of being the only _anything_ in Harvey’s life made Mike’s heart beat a little faster in his chest. He was pretty sure he was blushing. But he needed to remind Harvey of something.

  
“I’m not a kid anymore, Harvey.”

  
Their eyes locked and Mike held the gaze defiantly, like a man, not a scared little boy. All at once there was more than just a love song filling the air. There were memories of loaded looks and lingering glances, ‘accidental’ touches that had lasted just a shade too long, risks taken for no other reason than that they were for each other. Memories of times when it felt they were so close to saying words that would change their whole relationship for ever and which once spoken could never be taken back. Times like now.

  
And then Mike saw the shutters come down again. He tried to hide his disappointment as Harvey fell back on his wiseass persona and broke the silence with a sarcastic remark.

  
“Remind me again how you got hurt.”

  
Mike gave him the out, still afraid to push too hard lest Harvey shut him out forever.

  
“Harvey, adults enjoy biking too! That’s why they make bikes in adult sizes!”

  
“I'll concede that there are some, _borderline insane_ , adults who seem to enjoy cycling through parks or - shudder - the countryside. What adults _don’t_ do is pedal like a bat out of hell through downtown Manhattan in rush hour traffic!”

  
Mike sighed, fond but exasperated, knowing this was a battle he’d never win. Harvey gave him his trademark smirk that said, _I rest my case, rookie_ , and turned away to get the hot chocolate on the go.

 

* * *

 

Harvey reached into a cupboard and pulled down a mug. He stopped for a moment, pondering, then shrugged and lifted down another. Hot chocolate was probably a healthier sleep aid than the second glass of scotch he’d been contemplating.

  
Behind him he heard Mike start to hum along to the song on the record player and he smiled to himself, knowing Mike couldn’t see. It was … nice. Having Mike here like this, in his condo, late at night. Not his being hurt, of course. He didn’t like that and couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his spine as he remembered the phone call he’d received earlier that evening from the hospital informing him Mike had been in an accident. He’d listed Harvey as his emergency contact. Harvey hoped no one ever had to contact him in that capacity again, but it gave him a warm feeling to know Mike knew he would always be there when he needed him.

Right now, though, Mike in one of Harvey’s old t-shirts and pyjama bottoms, hair sleep-ruffled and messy, humming along quietly to Harvey’s records was giving him warm feelings too. _Everything_ about Mike gave him warm feelings. Taking care of him made Harvey feel good. It felt right. It felt like something he wanted to do for the rest of his life, given the chance.

  
_So why the hell couldn’t he tell the kid that?_

  
That. Right there. _Kid_. That was one reason why. Mike was ten years Harvey’s junior and although it wasn’t the biggest age gap Harvey had ever encountered in a relationship it was enough to give him pause. But he couldn’t help wondering if he was just using the age difference as an excuse not to pursue a romantic relationship with this young man who had made him feel more than he had in years, maybe ever. Rationally he knew Mike wasn’t a kid, he was a grown goddamn man, capable of making his own decisions (even if they did sometimes suck). He was more than capable of entering into a committed, adult relationship and handling all that entailed. Hell, he was probably better equipped than Harvey to deal with a proper, grown up relationship.

  
And that was reason number two.

  
Harvey had managed to screw up every relationship he had ever had. He ran scared every time someone got too close to penetrating the wall he had built around himself, around his heart. And Mike had been circling the perimeter for longer than Harvey cared to admit. _Goddamn it, Lily. You really did a number on me, didn’t you, **Mom**?_

  
Harvey shook his head. He couldn’t think about this now. Mike was too close and Harvey too susceptible. If he kept thinking about how right it felt having Mike here, in his home, in his _clothes_ , he’d do something stupid like kissing him. Or worse, like telling him he loved him. And he did, he couldn’t deny that, at least not to himself, anymore.

  
He poured the hot chocolate into the waiting mugs and added the marshmallows, with a few extra for Mike. He scoffed inwardly at the gesture. He was the one acting like a lovesick kid!

  
“Here you go, Lance Armstrong. Drink this and then back to bed with you. Your next pop quiz is in a couple of hours’ time and I don’t allow makeups so you better get some shuteye while you can.”

  
“What about you? Aren’t you going to get some more sleep?” Mike enquired, taking the hot chocolate with a grateful smile and nod of thanks. He grinned even wider after he took a sip and was warmed by both the drink and memories it evoked.

  
“I’ve got some work I can do to keep me occupied until it’s time to wake you again, Sleeping Beauty.”

  
“And are you planning to employ the same method the prince used to waken her?” Mike quipped.

  
“What, 'true love’s kiss’? You wish, princess.”

  
“A guy can dream, can’t he?” Mike beamed. Harvey tried to ignore the backflip his heart performed at the sight of his associate’s radiant smile.

  
“Just drink your chocolate, take your pill and get your ass back in bed already.”

  
Mike swallowed his pill, then lowered his head so Harvey couldn’t read his expression as he murmured, “I don’t wanna go back to bed. I wanna stay up with you.”

  
Harvey sighed. _What was that about him being a grown goddamn man?_ In that moment, perched on the kitchen counter in pyjamas that were too big for him, mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows in hand, sulking about not wanting to go to bed yet, Mike seemed younger than ever.

  
“Mike, you need to sleep. You’re hurt, you’ve had a shock and you need to rest.”

  
Harvey’s voice was gentle and betrayed a patience neither of them had known he possessed. So of course the next words out of his mouth had to be delivered in his more customary snarky tone.

  
“And if you don’t get into that bedroom on your own two feet then I’ll throw you over my shoulder like a caveman and carry you in there myself.”

  
Mike pretended to pout. “I’m hurt. You could at least carry me bridal style.”

  
“Whatever it takes to get you into bed,” Harvey replied, smirking.

  
It was only when he saw Mike’s eyes widen that he realised what he’d just said, and the smirk froze.

 

* * *

 

Mike swallowed and fixed Harvey square in the eye, seeing his chance and going for it, to hell with the consequences.

  
“It’d take a lot less than you think.”

  
Now it was Mike’s turn to watch Harvey’s eyes widen.

  
“Damn, Mike … you … you … must’ve hit that thick head of yours harder than we thought or something. Because you clearly don’t know what you’re saying right now, kid,” Harvey stammered out, trying to play the whole thing off as a joke.

  
But Mike wasn’t in the mood for stand-up.

  
“I’m not a kid and I know exactly what I’m saying, Harvey. What I’ve wanted to say for a long time. It’s not the head injury talking, I promise you.”

  
“Mike, you should go to bed now and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  
“I don’t want to forget, Harvey! I want to know how you feel about me! About _us_!”

  
“There is no 'us’, Mike!”

  
“But there could be!”

  
Harvey slammed his mug down and stalked out of the kitchen. It looked like he was having that second scotch after all.

  
Mike slid off the counter and followed Harvey into the other room, grabbing his arm and whirling him round to make him look at him. He hadn’t really thought about what he was going to do beyond that. Thankfully for him Harvey had an idea.

  
Everything Mike had said. His hand on Harvey’s arm and his heart on his sleeve. Those eyes, bluer than they had any right to be and looking at Harvey so earnestly. They all conspired to make Harvey lose his head and sent it spinning madly in all directions. His heart, though, it knew the way, and Mike was true north. Hell, he was north, south, east and west. Without his making the conscious decision to do so, Harvey brought his hands up to cup Mike’s face. From there it was simply a matter of leaning in a few inches to bring his lips to Mike’s. He felt Mike’s hand still gripping his bicep as the other came up to settle on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Harvey moaned, all his walls melting into nothing in the face of the wave of heat finally kissing Mike sent surging through him.

  
But any fire requires oxygen and eventually they had to break the kiss in order to breath. Mike let his head drop to Harvey’s shoulder and Harvey wrapped his arms around him gently but possessively, mindful of his bruised ribs but staking his claim. It was one Mike was happy to validate.

  
“That’s something else my Mom used to do when I was sick or hurt,” Mike began when they had both brought their breathing back under control a little.

  
“What’s that?” Harvey whispered into Mike’s hair.

  
Mike raised his head, beatific smile lighting up his whole face in a way that took Harvey’s breath away all over again.

  
“Kiss it better,” Mike grinned.

  
Harvey returned the grin. “Yeah?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Well, you were pretty badly hurt, Mike. I’m not sure one kiss is gonna do it.”

  
“You read my mind…,” Mike purred, both arms snaking round Harvey’s neck, discomfort in his ribs be damned. He wasn’t feeling any pain right now, Harvey flush against him and the taste of his lips still on his own.

  
But even as Harvey swooped in and kissed him again Mike couldn’t ignore the fear that all this might mean something different to Harvey than it did to him. Something _less_. And it was written all over his face the next time they came up for air.

  
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Harvey entreated, reading at a glance that _something_ was.

  
Mike bit his lip, thinking how best to ask the question he desperately needed answered. As was so often the case with him and Harvey he turned to the movies for guidance.

  
“If it’s just for laughs, then I want to be in on the joke from the start,” he quoted, unsure if Harvey would get the reference, but hoping the open, honest plea for truth wouldn’t be lost on him.

  
“Do you want it to be just for laughs?” Harvey hedged, tone cautious and heart somewhere in the region of his throat, or so it felt.

  
Mike shook his head vehemently. He’d come this far, he might as well lay it all out there. When it comes to love, you gotta be all the way in or all the way out. And Mike was all in.

  
“Good,” Harvey practically growled, “because I don’t play for laughs, I play for keeps. If we’re not on the same page here, let me know now, rookie. Because once I’m in, I’m all in, and I’m not letting you out. Think you can handle that?”

  
“Yeah, I think I can handle that,” Mike breathed.

  
“Well, now that’s settled, dry your eyes and blow your nose, in the order named, Nancy.”

  
He laughed as Mike looked up at him, surprised.

  
“What, you think you can just slip a quote by me like that without me noticing, rookie? Film noir happens to be one of my specialist subjects. 'Johnny O'Clock’, Columbia Pictures, 1947, starring Dick Powell as Johnny and Evelyn Keyes as Nancy, the girl who wanted to be in on the joke. You’re Evelyn, by the way.”

  
“Fine, I guess that makes you Di…”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” Harvey cut in, good-naturedly. “You need some new material, kid.”

  
“And you need to come to bed, old man.”

  
“As enticing as that sounds, Mike, I think we’d better wait until you’re not under the influence of powerful painkillers before we take our relationship any further. I don’t want to take advantage and I don’t want you doing something you might regret.”

  
Mike couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at Harvey’s use of the words 'our relationship’, or the eye roll at the suggestion Harvey might be something he would regret. He was touched by the concern, though, so rather than teasing Harvey on when he got to be so chivalrous he leaned forward and whispered in his ear instead.

  
“Trust me, you wouldn’t be taking advantage and you will _never_ be something I regret _doing_ ,” Mike cooed, “but if you were thinking I meant you were gonna get lucky tonight then I’m sorry to disappoint you. Because if you’re even _half_ as good in bed as you are at kissing I don’t think my ribs are up to the full Harvey Specter Experience just yet. And, yeah, that’s 'Experience’ with a capital 'E’.”

  
“Damn right it is,” Mike heard Harvey rumble into his skin as he slowly kissed his way down Mike’s neck to the little glimpse of pale, creamy shoulder exposed by the slightly too big for him t-shirt he was wearing.

  
“I could be persuaded to partake of the whole Harvey Specter Full Body Pillow Experience, though. If you were interested.”

  
“Oh, I’m interested, Mike. I’m very interested.”

  
“Great, then let’s go. Between your advancing years and my bruised ribs we’re both gonna need all the sleep we can get if you’re going to ravish me in three to six weeks time, give or take.”

  
“First, my advancing years?? Trust me, Junior, I’m in my prime. All you gotta worry about is trying to keep up with me. And, second, three to six weeks?!”

  
“You heard the doctor.”

  
“Yeah, okay, I guess that’s fair. Besides, I don’t think either of us would enjoy having to tell Jessica and the rest of the firm that you ended up in hospital because I was just so good I broke you. No, wait, actually I would enjoy telling everyone that.”

  
"Oh my God, you’re such an arrogant prick!”

  
Harvey shrugged. “It’s one of the things you love about me.”

  
“Yeah, it is,” Mike replied, pulling him into another long, scorching kiss that convinced both of them the next three to six weeks were going to be the longest of their lives…

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, again! Thanks for reading and I hope you found something to enjoy here. Come say hi in the comments section if you'd like, or on tumblr, where I'm also known as novemberhush. I'd love to hear any thoughts you might have on the title change (or anything else!) if you felt like sharing. Oh, and if you like classic soul singers you should definitely check out Bettye Swann! Take care. :-)


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